As we headed south, towards Cambrai, where my grandfather was captured, we came across this cemetary. It is occupied by 87 fallen Canadian soldiers and one Brit. A curious historical twist created by the existence of the British Empire, has been the massive sacrifice made in this European war by soldiers who hailed from the far corners of the globe, including Australia and New Zealand. Even closer to home, there are sad stories of death coming to ones whose connections with the conflict could have been questioned. A Welsh friend told how her great uncle, a Welsh speaker, had been called up and he found himself as a lone Welsh speaker in his regiment. This had happened because the authorities had realised that there was a problem with geographically based regiments because on occasions when they got wiped out, as they started doing with an unhealthy frequency, they were leaving whole towns in the UK bereft of any young men in one fell swoop. So, the Welsh man, who spoke only Welsh, was allocated to a regiment like the Durham Infantry and he consequently ended up alone, with no-one to talk to. He must have been quite confused as he tried to make out orders in English, to him a foreign tongue, and only a few hours into his very first conflict he was killed, remote from family and friends and barely knowing what he was doing in that hell on earth.